


Parisian nights, Parisian hot, Parisian breeze

by ilgaksu, ShatterinSeconds



Series: i don't say no /and you don't say no (the carmen sandiego au) [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Carmen Sandiego Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Art Auction, Enemies With Benefits, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, M/M, can be read as a standalone piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 21:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20495372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilgaksu/pseuds/ilgaksu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterinSeconds/pseuds/ShatterinSeconds
Summary: “Wish you told me you were coming,” Lance continues, hand by his side now but expression not dimmed in the slightest. “We could’ve carpooled together.”“I didn’t want you to know,” Keith says and stares at Lance. He tries to remain as emotionless--as professional--as possible, but that has never worked around Lance, has it?“You should know by now that I can pick you out in any crowd. I’d recognize that--”“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”“--that ass anywhere.” Lance appears to be proud of himself for that, eyes alight and smirk sinister.(Part of ilgaksu and I’s Klance Carmen Sandiego AU but is written as a standalone piece)





	Parisian nights, Parisian hot, Parisian breeze

**Author's Note:**

> Paris by Sabrina Carpenter doesn’t 100% fit this AU, but the song is a bop and is still worth listening to. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_ It's so romantic in Paris _

_ Won't even try to compare it _

* * *

** _[Paris Art Auction, 7:15pm]_ **

Lance’s grin concerns Keith, which never bodes well for what’s about to follow. “We'll have to kiss in front of my parents to make it believable.”

“Are you fucking me?”

Lance smirks, leaning forward slightly, more into Keith’s personal space. “Not presently, no.”

“I'm going to hurt you.” Keith growls at Lance for taking advantage of his poor choice of words. “Better yet, I'm finally going to arrest you.” 

“Babe,” Lance drawls as a few people wander close before dispersing again. His voice lowers to a whisper. “You still don't even know what I'm stealing.... which is nothing. This is just a family gathering.” 

“Well, I’m still not kissing you,” Keith replies, face twisting in disgust. 

For once, Lance tilts his head in genuine confusion, a pout on his lips. “But… you do it all the time.”

“This is different.” Keith shakes his head. Lance may never understand the distinction, growing up in an openly affectionate family and atmosphere, but he has to try. “It's your  _ parents _ .” 

“Yeah and you’re my boyfriend.” Lance coughs before correcting himself. “Fake boyfriend. Either way, if I don’t kiss you at some point, they’ll definitely know we’re faking it.” 

Keith tightly closes his eyes for a moment, breathing deep before he allows himself to concede. “You’ll have to make it worth my while.”

“Oh, trust me, I got us a room at the Four Seasons.” 

“ You mean the place that's convinced you're  _ paying  _ me ?” Keith says this with a tight smile, already knowing he’s about to officially cave any second now. Lance knows it too.

“Don't lie; you love that hotel.”

Keith always gets these  _ looks  _ from the reception desk whenever he steps off the elevator the next day, hair disheveled, red marks visible on his neck, and partner long gone. It’s quite humorous, in all honesty. Such an opportunity should not be wasted. 

He hums in conformation, rocking on his heels. With a step forward, Keith rests his hands on Lance’s suit and slides them up until he’s able to hook his arms over his fake boyfriend’s shoulders. His fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of Lance’s hair. “This better be the best fuck of my life, because what I am about to do for you may not even be worth it.”

“Listen,” Lance leans an inch down, lips brushing the shell of Keith’s ear. “ I know you’re pretending that kissing me is like drinking expired milk and all, but we both know that’s a bunch of bullshit.”

Their noses brush when Keith moves his head an inch.

“I hate you so much,” Keith says without the necessary malice.

“That’s the spirit.”

*

*

** _[Paris Art Auction, 6:20pm]_ **

It starts with this: a sound. Keith hears Lance before he sees him. It’s hard not to. Keith’s ears immediately latch onto that familiar laugh, something that vibrates into his soul, grasping at too many memories Keith has tucked away a long time ago. Then his eyes find his target. Lance, as per usual during high society events, is dressed in a form fitting suit, a navy blue jacket with a jeweled pattern of flowers, dark dress pants, and a light gray tie. 

In that moment, as Lance turns his head to the person beside him, his blue eyes catch onto Keith. They narrow, only for a split second, before a smile consumes his features. Whatever persona Lance had chosen for the evening evaporates almost instantly as he makes his excuses and leaves the main room.

He fucking sparkles under the auction house’s lighting and Keith has to wonder if Lance is wearing body glitter again. 

“Would it be too arrogant to assume you're here for me?” Lance asks after he saunters over to Keith, placing his empty drink on the nearby waiter’s tray.

“I guess not,” Keith replies, carefully choosing what to say, “since it’s true.”

Which, ultimately, had been the wrong choice of words as Lance blossoms at the response, an unchecked grin spilling onto his features. His posture becomes what one can only describe as flirty, gravitating towards Keith and winking. “Just can’t stay away, can you?”

Keith refuses to acknowledge his presence, staring into the crowd of rich art connoisseurs. His eyes flicker over the various paintings he can see through the door--a few landscapes, a couple portraits of long dead white people--none as captivating as the person beside him. “This is an art auction; I know how your mind works.”

Ignoring him, Lance’s eyes sweep over Keith’s choice of clothes--he can see one word flashing through Lance’s gaze: cheap--and his fingers already find a way to tangle themselves in Keith’s hair. Brushing Keith’s long bangs behind his ear, Lance hums in thought. “You should’ve let me style your hair. It's looking worse than usual, Red.”

Keith grabs onto Lance’s wrist, lifting his hand from his hair. “Stop.”

“Wish you told me you were coming,” Lance continues, hand by his side now but expression not dimmed in the slightest. “We could’ve carpooled together.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Keith says and stares at Lance. He tries to remain as emotionless--as  _ professional _ \--as possible, but that has never worked around Lance, has it?

“You should know by now that I can pick you out in any crowd. I’d recognize that--”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“--that ass anywhere.” Lance appears to be proud of himself for that, eyes alight and smirk sinister. Without breaking their locked gaze, Lance snaps his fingers to gain a waiter’s attention.

Keith’s scowl deepens and Lance chuckles in delight--the bastard. But he can spot Lance in any crowd, by his laugh, clothes, walk, voice, no matter what language is being spoken, so honestly he never doubted that Lance would spot him as well. Keith is never sure why he allows himself to be riled up so easily. 

It’s only with Lance too…. It’s always been  _ just  _ Lance. Nothing has changed in the slightest. 

“I must know; what master plan do you have this time to stop me?” Lance arches an eyebrow, a playful glint to his eyes that has Keith scrunching up his nose in annoyance. Lance has another drink in his hand and tips it back while waiting for Keith’s response. “Which will look utterly foolish since I’m not here to--”

_ “Mijo, quién es este?”  _ A woman walks up behind Lance, interrupting him, and Keith instantly knows this is Lance’s mother, despite never having met her before now. Her gaze is sharp but kind, something Lance inherited apparently, and a strip of gray runs through her dark curly hair.

Keith’s body becomes rigid, muscles locked as Lance turns to stand beside Keith instead of in front of him. 

The Guild only acquires members who have no attachment to the world--no family, friends, or a life in general. Their favorite targets are orphans, young ones to be raised without outside interference. Lance had been different; Lance was a late addition, a surprise to both Keith and the Guild. An impressive surprise. But Keith is the only person who knows Lance still has a living family, a large one at that--he wonders what bullshit lie Lance spun to be able to sneak away here. It is an art auction, one of the usual prime targets for Lance, but even he’s not stupid or cocky enough to put his family in danger.

Lance’s family is also oblivious to his choice of work. 

“This is Keith, my boyfriend.” Lance wraps his arm around Keith’s waist, hand splayed on his hip, and Keith pinches Lance’s side for quick beat of revenge. His skin prickles with the chaste contact that never happens between them but eventually he plays along, automatically leaning into that warmth, and sends a polite smile to Lance’s mother. 

“Oh, that’s lovely! How did you two meet? Did you attend art school with Lance?” Mrs. McClain continues her inquiry, oblivious to Keith’s tense expression and Lance’s overcompensated smile.

“No,” Keith replies before Lance can, cycling through his covers before ending with the simple, “I just work with him.”

“ _ Worked _ ,” Lance corrects, large smile slipping into a tight lipped grin. The minute change is only noticeable to Keith.

His gaze flickers back to Mrs. McClain. “Yeah, I ended up going uh  _ freelance _ . But I’m still around to  make sure your son doesn't do anything stupid. ”

“Well, I’m glad you’re looking out for him. Lord knows he needs it.”

“ _ Mamá _ ,” Lance whines next to him, and Keith has to smile. He likes this woman.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Keith,” she says, initiating the tail end to this conversation. “You must come over for dinner sometime. It’s been too long since I've tortured Lance by showing off his baby pictures.”

“I’d enjoy that, ma’am,” Keith replies too quickly and too honestly for his own liking, managing to interrupt Lance’s horrified “ _ Mamá! _ ” 

The minute she leaves, Keith wacks Lance on the shoulder, scowl reappearing. “Why didn't you say we were friends or acquaintances or anything but  _ that _ ?”

Lance casually shrugs, watching his mother wander back to his father--no siblings today it seems. An unexpectedly soft gaze lands on Keith. “It's better this way; trust me.”

“I don't.”

“You do.” Lance smiles with utter confidence. “You still do.”

_ This whole thing is a mistake.  _

Keith doesn’t know how to respond so he remains silent, tugging on an exuberant Lance as they head into the main room to pretend to be interested in art as a couple.

*

*

** _[Paris Art Auction, 8:05pm]_ **

They’re kissing in front of Lance’s parents. It’s chaste, too quick and weird to be anything worthy of remembrance, but an embarrassed blush colors Keith’s pale cheeks which makes it the worst thing he has ever done. When the McClains direct their attention elsewhere, Keith shoves Lance away. 

Yet Lance’s arms immediately encircle Keith’s waist to bringing him to his chest. Lance laughs; his words flutter through Keith’s hair. “Thank you,  _ cariño _ . Red has always been a good color on you.”

Keith almost,  _ almost _ , steps on Lance’s foot in retaliation, but that is not something a good boyfriend would do in public--Keith is a professional after all. Instead he allows himself to relax in Lance’s embrace, head resting on his shoulder, and Lance twitches as Keith’s hair tickles his skin.  _ This is all an act,  _ he tells himself as he lets go and hopes Lance is there to catch him. 

“If you don’t have a heist planned, can we leave now?” Keith grumbles, hands laying on top of Lance’s but is in no hurry to pry them off of him.

“You’re such a child.”

“It’s not my fault these events are boring as fuck.” Keith bares his teeth in distaste. 

Lance snorts. “You don’t know how to appreciate art. My knowledge is wasted on you.”

“I… I enjoy the statues you show me.” Keith reveals a sly smirks as he leans his head further back, nose pressing into Lance’s skin. Those statues may be terrible meeting places and Lance always chooses them when they’re in Paris, or France in general, at the same time, but even he can’t complain where those meeting places usually lead. 

“You would,” Lance comments with another laugh. It’s a melody. “Is this your way of telling me you’d like your reward now?”

Leaving Lance’s embrace, Keith pulls gently on Lance’s tie, gesturing for him to  _ move _ . “Very much so.”

** _[Four Seasons Hotel George V, 8:37pm]_ **

“Same room as last time,” Keith remarks despite Lance’s fingers already dipping near his waistline. Something about tonight has enhanced every single one of Lance’s actions. Keith already begins to drown and they haven’t even done anything yet. No, his entire being has been set on  _ fire _ . “You know how to treat a fake boyfriend.”

“Mmhmm, I requested it specifically.” Lance greedily captures Keith’s lips in a biting kiss before he’s able to respond. Short locks weave between Keith’s fingers as he drags Lance closer to him, their bodies almost flush. 

“Planning something special?” Keith asks with only an inch of space separating them.

“Hell yeah I am,” Lance mumbles into his skin as he finds that sweet spot right under Keith’s jaw near his ear. The words buzz against Keith’s skin. “I promised you a good time, after all.”

“The  _ best  _ time. Don’t short change me now,” Keith mutters, gasping slightly when Lance grinds against him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,  _ cariño _ .”

If this is how Keith is meant to die, in the arms of the man who’s about to fuck him long and hard, then Keith couldn’t have asked for a better ending. 

This entire night has been romantic, a break from their usual arrangements, and Keith basks in the soft touches of Lance’s delicate care as he checks Keith over to make sure he hadn’t been too rough. Lance wipes Keith’s stomach and inner thighs clean with a washcloth. Keith lies there on the bed, hands behind his head, staring at Lance’s swollen lips and marks forming on his brown skin. Proud of his masterpiece. 

“What’s that smirk for?” Lance asks casually, slipping into the bed beside him. He twirls a lock of Keith’s hair around his finger and tugs on it playfully.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, I know that look, but I don’t think I can go for a second round tonight. Sorry, babe.”

“Mm, that’s not what I was thinking.” Despite his better judgement, Keith arches his head, placing a soft kiss on Lance’s lips. His fingers linger on Lance’s jaw before he completely pulls away. “Good night, Lance.”

Eventually, Keith falls into a blissful sleep, the memory of Lance’s hands on his body remaining forever.

  
  


** _[Four Seasons Hotel George V, 9:16am]_ **

Sometimes they’re able to forget the history between them and simply breathe in the ecstasy of each other, enjoying the moment, or moments depending on how tiring their days were. After these nights, Keith will wake in the morning to find Lance gone, a note on the bedside table--a witty remark, never a simple goodbye--and the room paid. It’s always a no-strings-attached type deal until they find themselves fucking again a few weeks or months later.

Keith has to wonder if something changed this time around when he wakes up in Lance’s embrace and is greeted with a genuinely bright, sleepy smile to begin his morning. A part of him is scared.

**Author's Note:**

> I have another fluffy-ish oneshot in the works for this AU; hopefully I'll post that by the end of this month. So keep a look out for that if you're interested.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos and follow the series for more:)


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